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log0li · 7 months

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Progress Update #1 | 11/8/23

Been a while but I got great news! I believe I have a hold on my vision of the first 3 episodes I want to release. I am gonna start working on the writing of the scripts tomorrow! The push that really gave me the ideas and eureka moment for how the story can progress properly was one action that helped extremely.

I listened to as many Episode 1's of as many horror-adjacent podcasts as I could find. This helped me realize what I enjoy listening to and what I feel doesn't work in the long term (On a separate note Red Valley sucked me into finishing season one. Super good can't recommend it enough). I realized my story the way it was going was gonna be too limited by the subplot and it relegated the main plot to an afterthought.

The subplot and main plot will be sharing the space much more equally now, though it will require more voice actors in the future so there's that. Otherwise, today has been progress-filled!

#writing #horror #my writing #podcast #the un-written #work in progress #progress update #red valley #fiction #horror podcast

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boysaints · 1 year

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a weird little poem i wrote for the new year :)

[transcript: Oh God. Hand me the champagne, / I think it’s finally happening. Ladies and gentlemen, / it’s the moment we’ve all been waiting for, where / I realize it’s all bullshit: everyone knows / when you say my new year’s resolution is to / work out more you really mean that your sadness / has become a beast too big to wrangle with / your own two hands; when you say there won’t be / any more clothes on my bedroom floor / there’s always the unspoken caveat that / you would be perfectly happy if those / clothes belonged to someone else. Oh God. / Hand me the champagne—no, scratch that, let’s celebrate—hold my hand, dance with me— / because I have found yet another reason to live. / I have found yet another copy of the same / poem to scream about living, living, living, / as if my body is my soapbox, my pulpit, as if to say come one, come all, we made it nowhere / again, cue the Springsteen, ‘cause baby, / we were born to run. Oh God. / Hand me the champagne, I think I’ve lost / my mind. When the clock strikes midnight / I promise I’ll become a new person entirely, / erased and redrawn in new colors. I’ll prove everyone wrong about me, even myself. I’ll lie down and / let the water decide. Oh God. Hand me the champagne, it’s all too much. And I know you can’t stay but / I need someone to kiss me now, right here / on the sidewalk before the sun comes up, / while you’re still beautiful and backlit / in silver. When was the last time you saw / a moon this bright, anyway? It’s almost / enough to make you believe someone’s / up there looking out for us. Almost enough / to make you trust the universe again. And now, / at long last, my bullet-train brain has meandered / along to the point, which is, of course: here’s to / another year of being ordinary, of having coffee / and napping and sitting around each other’s houses / doing nothing. So long and thanks for all the fish— / I trust that this year, if nothing else, / you will keep on walking / towards the light at the end of the hall.]

#hi . no taglist on this one bc i am lazy #also this is the first thing i’ve written in months. happy to be un retired from poetry i guess #writing #my writing #poetry #poem #words #also i forgot the correct format for transcript someone correct me if it’s inaccessible LMAO

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toxifoxx · 4 months

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okay. henry breaking it off with william because they Just Cant Be Together Like This(bla bla bla 60's/70's homophobia) and he's a Good Christian Man. immediately going to marry a woman to make up for his 'sins'. william getting a wife because he sees henry doing it and feels like its something he has to do. dating around, escalating to sleeping around trying to fill the void, hoping someone will click but nobody makes him feel the way henry does at all. even clara, who came the closest out of anyone else, was still more out of obligation than true love cause of an accidental pregnancy. as much as william loves his kids - michael was a mistake and he really wasn't ready to have a kid yet, locking him to a path he wasn't sure he wanted to walk. he's a shitty parent because he was never actually prepared and at that point the diner is taking up a lot of his time so he just kinda escapes to the diner and buries himself in his work most of the time. once michael's siblings are born, he tends to give better treatment to them(better experience + he actually wanted them), even though he loves them all there is definitely favoritism and a hint of resentment. despite knowing that michael didnt do anything wrong. of course he feels a lot more justified in that resentment after evan(CC)'s death

#SINCE the accidental pregnancy in college storyline simply wouldn't work after i increased william's age #(michael would be wayyy too old by 83 - like in his 20's)#this is the adjustment that i have come up with #casually avoiding mentioning william was the one who got pregnant because i know the 'marriage to save face' trope barely makes sense in #this particular context But that is what happened and you will pretend it makes sense. Please #also yes henry is christian not mormon im not touching mormonism with a ten foot pole thank you #hey this is actually like. my first un-prompted lore post. yayyyy! written at 3am btw #toxi fnaf lore #toxi.txt

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difeisheng · 1 year

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the thing about xiao hua in the lost tomb 2 is that i would argue he's the most ruthless of all the live-action versions (at least so far). he's the one dealing with the ugly underbelly of what it means to be head of the xies, the one onscreen telling the rest of his family to fuck off or die because he won't walk away or go down without a fight. he moves quickly and cleanly and he kills people without blinking if the situation is severe enough to warrant it.

but he's also the version of xiao hua who smiles the most and genuinely means it. whether it's at his men who've stayed by his side, or at wu xie who he beams at from the first time they're onscreen together and never stops looking out for him, or at zhai xingyao, the brother who he's kept safe enough to have his back. he's got all the gravity of the burdens he's had to carry his entire life, but he still finds enjoyment in the simplest ritual of sitting in his courtyard watching opera performances on his laptop. xiao hua has restraint and control and he can click his emotions on and off like a light switch if he must, though with the emotions he's willing to share, he's so easy with making them known.

adding onto this, there's a passage from book canon that i feel is crucial to understanding xiao hua's character, and it's from volume 7 (from wu xie's pov):

“Are you a good person or one of the bad ones?” I asked.

“What do you think?” He looked at me and sighed. “Do you think a good man, upon hearing that his childhood playmate’s life and death was uncertain, would still ignore it and finish his own business first?

(...) "Do you know how many times I did such things before? I often wondered if I didn’t listen to my grandfather and went back immediately, would those people still be alive?” He also smiled. “You can’t have friends once you think like that, because you know you can’t go back and save them. If you became friends with someone and this happened, then you’d be sad. So to prevent that and be able to abandon others with ease, I decided I couldn’t be friends with anyone. It sounds a bit melodramatic, doesn’t it?”

I didn’t know how to answer him, so I just chuckled a few times.

“But these were my thoughts when I was a child.” He said. “Now that I’m older, I’ve figured a few things out.” He sighed and raised the wine bottle and motioned to me, “So, Little Master Three. With me here, you have to take care of yourself.”

(quoted from the Merebear translation)

although tlt2 xiao hua is younger than he is in this section of the books (this exchange takes place while him and wu xie are at mount siguniang, or the last arc of ultimate note), he's a xiao hua who's already been through the change his book counterpart describes in the passage. he's made it forward in reckoning with what he does in his life, and he doesn't consider himself a saint by any means for it, but he's found what happiness he can still make room for and save despite all that. i'm glad that tlt2 gave us a xiao hua who looks like he's gone through that realization, and let him shine in who he is after coming out the other side, not only in his own sideplot but also in his interactions with the other main characters.

one of my favourite moments in tlt2 is from the last battle against the jade(?) warrior, when one of xiao hua's men dies (i'm so sorry i can't remember his name) and he's angry. how xiao hua wields his anger is typically cold, calculated, he only lets a hint of it show because the self-control is more terrifying to watch than full displeasure. this time he's fully expressing genuine rage, and i think it's the most unrestrained we ever see xiao hua with it in any adaptation. one of his people died, someone he cared about and wasn't afraid to show it, and so whoever is responsible is going to lose his life next. and it's beautiful.

tl;dr i adore how tlt2 xiao hua is characterized and how that characterization drew on his book journey, even though this adaptation introduces him at a slightly younger age. hats off to everyone involved

#SORRY BUT TLT2 XIAO HUA IS MY FAVOURITE XIAO HUA #ACTUALLY IM NOT SORRY ABOUT IT #also pls if anyone wants to talk about book xiao hua or tlt2 xiao hua i am always here #please do not get me wrong i think UN is a great show and liu yuhan's xiao hua is a very fascinating character #but i would also argue he's the live action version written farthest away from the books re: characterization #and that's ok! multiple interpretations can exist and that's what makes dmbj fun as an ever shifting adapted franchise #but also.... tlt2 and book xiao hua my beloved #dmbj #tlt2 #xie yuchen #xiao hua #meta #ashton originals #the lost tomb 2

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bird-inacage · 2 years

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LOVE IN THE AIR | Sky x Prapai Fanfiction

An Admission of Surrender

Summary: Here it is. I’m giving you all the power to hurt me. But you won’t hurt me, will you? Maybe that’s partially the reason he held onto those words for so long, because they are the final vestiges of safety he has remaining, before he’s completely given himself over, before he’s whole-heartedly and willingly surrendered himself up to be hurt all over again.

Details: Canon, based on TV series knowledge up to Ep11. No novel influence.

A/N: *NOW AVAILABLE ON MY AO3 ACCOUNT HERE* I will be continuing the post fics there. (I’d like to dedicate this to @shipsaremylifesource, @prapaiwife, @fortpeat and @moonchildridden, who have been the absolute most darling supporters, and just overall awesome, hysterical mutuals to be sharing the delirium of this pairing with. To my fellow members of the Insane & Deranged Prapaisky Victim Support Group/Comrade- in-Arms/Family).

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“Aren’t you going to say it back to me?”

Sky startles, notices the slight quirk in Prapai’s brow which is laced more with bemusement rather than any serious concern, before it dawns on him that he’s been silent for more than a few minutes. His heart feels skittish in his chest, so he dodges Prapai’s eyeline in an attempt to calm the tightening sensation in the pit of his stomach.

Prapai’s fingers are lightly massaging Sky’s hand. He waits a beat before nudging, “Did you hear what I said?”

He knows Sky heard what he said. He’s teasing. As per usual.

The first time Prapai said it, had been nearly a fortnight ago. Sky had proposed to bake a cake for his family dinner that week. He never liked to show up empty-handed, and though it was never anything fancy, Plerng and Phan had been all too keen (if not overly, slightly suspiciously so) on receipt of everything he had brought with him so far. He still hadn’t decided if the siblings were simply humouring him or there was some other joke at play that he was not privy to. Prapai had insisted on helping once Sky had made the suggestion. And as a matter of fact, he had been attempting to teach Prapai how to cook as of late.

As a responsible boyfriend, Sky felt it was only right to equip Prapai with a basic means of survival, which meant venturing beyond simply frying an egg or boiling a bowl of ramen without assistance. Prapai would just cheekily retort that he had Sky didn’t he? Sky was fully aware that Prapai was unlikely to ever be in a position where he would go hungry, with significant wealth to rest on eating out for the rest of his life, but still... It had been to Sky’s immense surprise, that the request had come from the man himself.

The downside unfortunately was that the kitchen always became a war zone when collaborative cuisine was attempted, despite Sky’s futile efforts to maintain order. He blamed Prapai, obviously, as his namesake came with a tornado-like aftermath as far as cooking was concerned. Whilst Sky had dubiously handed Prapai over the task of piping cream, a healthy smattering had somehow ended up on his face. Smiling, Sky had taken a kitchen towel to Prapai’s cheek, wishing he had seen for himself how cute Prapai must have been as a kid. All lop-sided, impish grins most probably. He could only entertain his imagination, based on the baby pictures Prapai’s mother had all too enthusiastically presented to Sky on his first visit.

It was only after a minute or two that Sky realised Prapai had been uncharacteristically quiet, and was about to chide him for not listening, when he turned to find Prapai watching him in a bit of a daze, clearly having done so for quite a while.

Sky felt that now familiar and sudden rush of heat to his chest whenever Prapai caught him off guard like that. Sky immediately swiped a hand across his cheek, “Do I have something on my face?”

Prapai had continued looking at him, eyes all soft and wandering and noticeably vacant as his gaze did an excruciatingly slow once-over across Sky’s face before finding his eyes.

Sky had shifted restlessly in his seat and instead turned towards the ingredients spread across the table, deflecting in an attempt to save himself from possible humiliation. “I can’t decide whether we should go for a berry jam or maybe something less sweet like a lemon curd? What do you think? Your Mom has less of a sweet tooth, so perhaps we could even do a bit of each?”

“I love you.”

Just like that.

It took Sky a moment - a few moments before he fully registered what Prapai had said. But to his astonishment, he hadn’t felt the cold fever of panic seize him in its grasp like it used to. Something had fluttered in his stomach, a nervousness of an altogether different kind.

As much as his mind had been going into overdrive, he would never doubt Prapai’s honesty. The man was a notoriously bad liar anyway. The reason Sky was dumbstruck was not the fact that Prapai was in love with him. He'd known that for a while now. But why Prapai had chosen to say it then, when Sky was certain he was powdered in billows of flour, hair still a bit mussed from their lie-in this morning, and fashioned in an old t-shirt and apron he’d thrown on as it had been laundry day.

Sky’s apparent flustering only made the grin on Prapai’s face even wider. But to the other man’s credit, he had not dwelled on the sudden declaration, which made Sky wonder if he had heard it at all. As if to test that theory, Prapai had proceeded to say it a few more times since, each delivered at an exceptionally mundane moment where Sky had not been anticipating it at all, and every time had without fail proceeded to send Sky into a small meltdown. Sky was beginning to suspect that Prapai was purposely trying to get that reaction from him, for it seemed to delight him no end.

“You’re ignoring me again.”

Prapai tugs the hand he has hostage up to his lips and presses against the raised line where Sky cut himself with a scalpel last week. The knot in Sky’s chest soothes a fraction.

Sky’s gaze quickly sweeps across the far end of the room, to the clock sitting on the dresser. “Don’t you have a meeting this morning?”

The attempt to change topic doesn’t elude Prapai, who now knows him far too well for comfort. Prapai rolls his eyes, which Sky immediately catches. He’s definitely rubbing off on the other man, and he doesn’t like it one bit when that attitude is directed at himself. Undeterred and still punchably smug, Prapai closes the distance between them by another inch or two. His eyes are bright, an ever present hint of mischief there, “I said I love you.”

And the confession bellies Sky once again. The utter sincerity of it. How Prapai manages to say this so easily, as if he were commenting on the weather or what he ate for dinner the night before, baffles Sky. It isn’t that Sky doubts his conviction. Not in the slightest. But mostly Sky’s brain is still stuck at The Why? The Why that has been festering in his gut ever since it dawned on him that Prapai wasn’t going anywhere. The Why every time Prapai stares into his eyes like there’s nothing else that exists on this earth but him alone. The Why when Sky considers that Prapai has the means to pick anyone he wants and for some demented reason (possibly due to some serious cognitive defect), has chosen him.

He doesn’t realise he’s said it out loud until he notices Prapai’s nose scrunch up slightly in that annoyingly endearing way.

“You’re asking me why I love you?” There’s an edge of admonishment in Prapai’s tone, like he’s genuinely a bit upset by the implication but quickly returns to his usual lilt of amusement, which grates because it usually means Prapai is about to make fun at his expense. “You want me to list all the reasons? Because I can if you want.”

Sky rolls onto his back and huffs.

Prapai simply follows, looming over him and takes a moment to search his face, before a smile tugs at the sides of his mouth, “I love how easily you get wound up and the way you tell me off. Because you’re usually right and I usually deserve it.” Sky shoots him a ‘oh you don’t say?’ face. “I love the really focused expression you get when you’re concentrating really hard. You’re always so engrossed in what you’re doing, you forget everything around you.” Prapai stares pointedly at Sky’s injured finger. “Sometimes even me,” which is delivered with an added pout.

“I love it when you get that ‘deer caught in highlights’ look in your eyes. Like you’re suddenly a kid again, lost and helpless and desperately searching for something - or someone”, which earns a small scoff. “It always reminds me of the night I first met you. I love the way you sneak glances at me when you think I’m not looking. It’s very sweet. It’s incredibly adorable actually. Haven’t I told you that you’re more than welcome to openly gawk at your stud of a boyfriend all you want? Why be so shy about it?”

Sky’s skin bristles with embarrassment, the telltale heat of a blush rising up his neck, and he flings a hand in Prapai’s general direction to try and halt the onslaught, “Stop.”

He hates how lovely it is when Prapai says things like this, and without any degree of hesitation. Hates how much it makes him squirm because it’s cheesy and sappy, and so bloody sentimental. But mostly he hates how much he likes it.

“I love how wickedly smart and quick you are. I love the dynamic you have with your friends, and watching you bicker with Rain. It’s welcome entertainment for both me and Payu actually. I love it when you take control, it’s extremely sexy. I love everything you cook...”

Sky’s eyes begin frantically searching around him, desperately wishing he had a dictionary or something substantially heavy within arm’s reach that he could use right now to knock his boyfriend out.

“I especially love the way you moan my name when you c—”

Sky’s eyes widen and he uses both hands to give Prapai a firm shove in the chest, “You have no shame!”

Prapai buries his face into Sky’s neck, hair fluffing in disarray as he laughs heartily into Sky’s collarbone, “Joke’s on you, you’re the one who fell for this shameless asshole”. The sound goes straight to Sky’s heart and he feels momentarily dazed, like he’s the one whose been clubbed on the back of the skull. Prapai re-emerges, rising only the few inches necessary to allow him to talk unheeded, but his weight atop Sky’s has them both breathing a little heavier than usual.

“I don’t know how else to explain it to you. I just love you. I love you fiercely, madly.” Prapai’s face is surprisingly earnest all of a sudden as he lightly combs Sky’s bangs away from his face, “You have absolutely no idea just how much.”

Sky feels himself go loose and pliant like he always does when Prapai stares at him like that, like he’s delving into the depths of Sky’s very soul and seeing him laid completely bare. His eyes dart between Prapai’s eyes and lips, lulled by the comforting thud thud of Prapai’s heartbeat. His hand is drawn to sit there, right in the centre of Prapai’s chest, where he can feel the steady thrum beneath his fingers. Warm, comforting and so very alive. Something in Prapai’s eyes turn molten, the thinly veiled desire behind them drawing Sky further and further away.

A shrill ring cuts through the fog like a knife, dousing them both alert, and Prapai let’s out a low groan. No doubt his secretary calling to chase. They both eye each other for another moment longingly before it is eventually Prapai who makes a move, swiftly planting a kiss on Sky’s forehead before plucking himself out of their shared embrace.

Sky registers the pang he feels at the loss of contact, the empty space that Prapai vacates in the very air around him. He sits up, perching his chin on his knees to watch Prapai fish for a clean shirt. Sky unconsciously dips his nose against the sleeves of the top he’s currently wearing - one of Prapai’s long-sleeved whites - and lightly inhales. It smells of Prapai of course, which eases the ache in Sky’s chest slightly. It’s why he began wearing Prapai’s clothes in the first place, because it’s comforting to feel close to him in this small way. But also he just likes how Prapai’s eyes twinkle when he notices Sky wearing his clothes, and how that makes him tingle all over.

He continues to follow Prapai’s movements, making no attempt to avert his eyes as he watches the rippled muscles along his boyfriend’s back disappear beneath cotton.

“You have a workshop this evening don’t you? I’ll drive by and pick you up afterwards. We can grab something to eat together—” Prapai stills when he meets Sky’s gaze, and his eyes go instantly soft. He offers a warning tut, “don’t do that.”

Sky is aware that he’s becoming increasingly reliant on Prapai, and that growing realisation is starting to seriously hurt his pride. So accustomed he was to being independent, he now feels handicapped by that fact. He distinctly remembers the first business trip Prapai had taken once they’d started dating, and the uneasiness that prospect had stirred within him at the thought of being left behind. Prapai’s eyes had been immediately apologetic when he told him the news, hand smoothing across Sky’s cheek in an attempt to soothe, “The shortest I could bargain for was three days.”

Sky had been mortified by just how humiliatingly needy he must seem for making Prapai feel bad for doing his job. He hated the idea of being the classic, desperate, clingy boyfriend, and so he’d plastered on the best carefree smile he could manage, “Seriously, three days is nothing. As if I haven’t spent a short lifetime living alone before I met you. You should be prioritising your work or your Dad will have a go at you again. Go for as long as you need to.”

Prapai had looked at him in a way that meant Sky had not convinced him in the slightest. “I’ll call every day okay? Multiple times a day. I promise.” He had then proceeded to kiss Sky all over, and nuzzle sulkily into his neck like a small, dejected animal. The irony was not lost on Sky that Prapai appeared to have taken it much worse than he did. Though he had to eventually admit that those three days had proved to be much, much harder than Sky had initially anticipated, and as soon as Prapai had returned, he didn’t detach himself from Sky’s side for a solid week.

That little knot of worry which persistently forms in his gut every time Prapai has to leave him (even briefly), is something he recognises akin to abandonment, which he knows is silly, ridiculous even, —paranoid definitely. He’ll be back Sky.

“Sweetheart?”

“Hmm?”

“You stop that, now.”

Sky blinks from his spiralling reverie, “Stop what?”

“That.”

Sky nibbles into his bottom lip, “What?”

Prapai leans down and levels his gaze, something disapproving flickering across his face, “That thing you do with your eyes. I can read each and every thought in your head.” Prapai’s hand reaches out to stroke the back of Sky’s head gently as he lowers his voice. “I’m not going anywhere, remember?”

Somehow Prapai knows. He always knows.

His phone rings again, incessant and demanding, and Sky can only imagine the exasperation on his poor secretary’s face. The same expression she’d made when she had walked in on them kissing across Prapai’s desk, which Sky can safely say was wholly Prapai’s fault. It had been his idea to drag Sky along to his office, and Sky should have known better that he was not going to behave, even when in a professional setting.

Prapai hisses audibly, eyebrows raised in displeasure, which Sky responds with a wry smile, “Go.”

Prapai never expects anything from Sky. He may tease, but he'll never truly push which Sky is endlessly grateful for. He’s all too happy to offer up his heart and serve it on a platter even if Sky doesn’t ask for it. The fact that Sky has not said it back to him yet has not appeared to phase him in the slightest. And that’s the part that makes Sky feel increasingly guilty. Prapai soothes and coaxes all his jagged concerns away without expecting anything in return, and is surprisingly patient even when Sky is unable to match his pace. Worse yet, the man seems perfectly content with that, and Sky knows he has ample reason not to be.

He wants to be able to do more. Give more. But Sky is self-aware enough to recognise that he’s still a bit broken, and though he may want to, his anxieties haven’t allowed it.

It’s whilst Prapai is collecting up his scattered belongings from around the bedroom, that an urge bubbles up inside Sky like a shapeless thing that begs to be released. It’s not like he hasn’t thought about those words. Thanks to Prapai, they’ve rolled around in his head an awful lot recently, but he hasn’t been able to find a means to command their influence.

Something twisted in Sky’s gut says; what if he walks out that door and something were to happen to him and you regret not saying it? What if something were to happen to you, and you regret that he never heard it? He’s not sure exactly what type of unhealthy scenarios his mind is conjuring up to terrorise him, but the fear is all too real. Sky is no stranger to the creeping suspicion that this is all far too good to be true, and he’ll wake up soon or Prapai will come to his senses. After everything Prapai has done for him, he deserves more. Sky wants Prapai to know that he cares about him and appreciates him just as much.

As Prapai locates his jacket and car keys, he shoots Sky another one of his reluctant-to-leave-you smiles as he finally retreats towards the door, clearly dragging his heels. “Get some more sleep okay? I’ll call you later.”

Sky knows he’s exceptionally partial to sentimentality whenever Prapai has to leave, and his anxieties converge on him to act without thinking. Sky stares at that handsome, warm, loving face and feels himself overcome with affection.

It takes him a moment before he realises the three words have slipped out without prompt. Quiet. Tentative, and quite frankly a bit fumbled. As if he had only been planning to test drive the words on his tongue. Not at all as assured in tone as the same three words Prapai said to him only moments ago. Something in Sky panics, feels frantic all of a sudden. He tries to reassure himself that this is the least that Prapai deserves, to hear Sky say it back and more importantly, Sky wants to. But as much as Sky hates to admit it, it’s not so much an admission as much as a plea.

Here it is. I’m giving you all the power to hurt me. But you won’t hurt me, will you? Sky already knows the answer to that question, but it still crosses his mind like a bad omen. Maybe that’s partially the reason he held onto those words for so long, because they are the final vestiges of safety he has remaining before he’s completely given himself over, before he’s whole-heartedly and willingly surrendered himself up to be hurt all over again (despite everything he’s been through and suffered, despite his deepest, darkest fears)... After this, Prapai will well and truly have everything he possibly has to give.

He just wishes he had sounded more confident when he did eventually say it. Now he’s worrying himself stupid that it may have come across uncertain or questioning, and the last thing he wants is for Prapai to think he’s doubtful about his feelings.

Sky spots Prapai’s hand clenched round the door frame, where he had swiftly stopped himself mid-exit. Sky immediately flushes, diving back into the duvet, suddenly acutely aware of what he’s possibly done, and the havoc he may have just caused.

“You should go now, you’re already late—”

The keys in Prapai’s pocket jingle as he takes three long strides back towards the bed. Prapai’s breath is hot against his face as he presses Sky bodily back into the sheets, but not before he gathers him absolutely flush against him, and kisses him desperately on the mouth. Sky’s coherence spreads paper thin as Prapai’s hand skirts beneath the fabric of his top and along his spine to pin him closer, whilst the other tilts his jaw up to meet his eagerly. Sky’s hands curl into the fabric of Prapai’s shirt, fingers occasionally wandering into the hair on the back of Prapai’s neck, as he allows the man to completely engulf him.

When Prapai releases him momentarily, his freshly laundered shirt is a crumpled mess beyond salvation. His smile is positively beaming - everything will be alright - that boyish charm creeping in which always makes Prapai look instantly younger and sweeter than usual.

“You really—”, and it irks Sky that it takes another attempt before he’s able to find his voice again, “You really have to go now—”

“Nnn mmn, one more,” before Prapai angles in to kiss him again, and the jackass takes his sweet time. Languid and probing, it sets Sky alight. They break apart briefly to breathe before Prapai impatiently leans into him again because he’s full of shit, and once is never just once.

Sky feels scattered and light-headed when Prapai draws back just enough to allow himself access to Sky’s throat, voice slightly husky against his pulse. “Say it again. Please.”

“I jsst—”

Sky vaguely considers if Prapai may be attempting murder if he doesn’t comply, because he’s struggling to draw air or even formulate one complete thought whilst Prapai continues to assault his lips. If they don’t stop soon, there’s not a chance in hell that Prapai’s going to make that meeting or work at all.

“Again,” Prapai demands but his eyes are achingly tender.

Sky is once again winded by the sheer elation in that gaze, that he cannot possibly bring himself to deny him. So he musters his courage, takes Prapai’s face in both hands, and despite the blush he can feel colouring his cheeks, he meets those eyes evenly and steels against the sheer pounding of his own heart.

“I love you.”

There. Better.

Something in Sky seems to fall into place then. Because all the fear and worry falls away and all that’s left is him.

Prapai’s eyes are brimming with reverence, pride and adoration.

“My Sky.”

The endearment would usually make him inwardly wince with embarrassment, because if there’s something Prapai has an innate talent for, is saying the most corny, toe-curling declarations of love without so much as batting an eyelid. But right now, Sky can’t resist that all encompassing love wring him utterly boneless, weightless, senseless...

You’re mine, it says, and Sky couldn’t be happier at the declaration.

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I hope whoever has the patience to read this, does enjoy!

#LITA #love in the air #love in the air series #LITA fanfiction #love in the air fanfiction #bird-inacage pens a fic #prapaisky #prapai x sky #sky x prapai #canon-compliant #tv canon only - no novel knowledge #let me know what you think guys #this is a long 'un #ive already got a possible second part loosely written #prapaisky fanfiction

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log0li · 7 months

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Introduction | 10/29/2023

In all honesty, this post is difficult to write as I'm not used to promoting myself or talking about myself online so bear with me. The project is a Horror Fiction Anthology Podcast inspired by my own personal experiences and the correlation between trauma and horror.

Currently, there really isn't a release date but I hope the first episodes will be released to YouTube (if not other services but definitely YouTube) by the end of next year. I am planning on trying to get it onto Spotify, Apple Podcasts, and YouTube.

My progress has been good as I have fully fleshed out the general plot of the first season and started on script writing with the worldbuilding I’ve developed so far. My main goals for the future are it get a site up for information pertaining to the podcast, find artists interested in working on logo art and such, find musicians interested (possibly have one currently), and finally find voice actors or people interested in long/short term work. With that final goal, I realized It would be best for me to voice the main protagonist of the series to keep costs low and because it would be the best chance to keep the project on track.

The name Un-Written has been in my head since as far back as 2021, originally being the name of a novel I wanted to make about the little superheroes who aren't as popular in a world full of supervillains and heroes battling daily. This name has been the name of a board game, comic series, book, and numerous other things. It was only a year ago I was introduced to the podcast medium as not just a discussion forum but as a storytelling device through podcasts such as The Magnus Archive and Old Gods of Appalachia. These stories have inspired me to do the same as them, telling a story I feel passionate about while exposing the horrors of life. I hope you enjoy this story once it is out and ready for the world.

Until then I will be posting on here occasionally (gonna try for one a week) about progress on the project along with answering any questions I get about the series! (I will refuse spoilers for the project)

If you’ve read this far, thank you.

#writing #horror #my writing #podcast #The Un-Written #Un-Written #fiction #introduction #anthology

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didderd · 1 year

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How can I show support for a friend who has tourette?

Thank you for helping me learn more about all this and for being honest with us ✨💖✨

Np, I'm very happy to teach abt it. Tysm for listening, and for asking abt it. <333

It kinda depends on the person, but generally:

Laughing about a funny tic (specially the ones they laugh about) is fine and can actually be a lot less awkward and make them feel less weird about it! As long as you're not laughing at them. (We know that our tics can be ridiculous and funny at times. I often laugh at my tics, even in the middle of a tic attack.)

If the person is having a bad tic attack. They'll be fine. For the most part it just needs to be waited out. Depending on the tic attack, you might want to give them some space if you're sitting close to them. Maybe if they're having SH tics like hitting their chest, ask if you should get a pillow or something for them to put in between them and their hands. Continue talking to them, whether or not they can talk back much through their tics. Rly tho, you should probably ask them what they would want you to do in the event of a bad tic attack.

(I don't mean to make tic attacks sound all big and dramatic lol. Usually they're not that bad, just the more sever ones can be.)

In general, just listen to them. Be there for them when they need it. Reassure them that they're normal and not weird if they ever doubt that. And don't treat them differently. <3

Oh and wish them a happy Tourette's Awareness Month whenever it comes around, and if you didn't this year, tell them you hope they had a good one. :>

#hope this helps <3 #n i hope i explained this well lol #not sure what else i can say #some of this was written with the assumption that you know them irl. but most of it can still apply otherwise #tam ask event #tourette's #tourette syndrome #tourettic #neurodivergent #neurodivergencies #didderd asks #hora-de-un-cafecito #carefully concocted this answer on and off thru a few days #felt too important to not put my whole ass into lol #hope i didn't overthink it too much n it's alright hhhhh

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slxthserenade · 2 months

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I met you in February’s misty beginnings. When the grey still tinted the windows and the day never lingered on for long.

I met you and you were all stories and adventure. You trailed imagination, colours too vivid to ever fully seem yours. You spoke in borrowed words, expressions that never fit you quite right. A laugh too melodic, lingering for a second too long to be true.

In between the lines of each adventure you nestled yourself, took shelter in every thin turn of a page. Still yet bright-eyed, you picked out words from all fonts, colours, paragraphs, and strew your own stories. Every letter a heartbeat, every space a breath. Your veins are woven with lines upon lines, coursing with black as ink. You remain veiled all the words you wrapped around yourself, in place of warm arms.

But it was as if the sun itself had coloured you in all the hues of spring, filling in the gaps between each pore, running along each strand of hair. Dotting your eyes with specks of verdant grass, threading them with long-winding branches of auburn— a forest too easily lost in. All the shades of a meadow buried deep within the trees, scattering flowers wherever your feet go, a trail of colours in your wake.

My fingers could never grasp you. Not a portion of you was ever tangible in my hands. I won’t even attempt to get a hold of you. Spring passes just as quickly as it approached, in that stuffy room tinted grey with winter. And what else is left of it but fading memories, poorly transcribed colours and a smile far too vivid ?

(( You know ? The colder, carefully crafted brown of your eyes could never spread far enough to cover the surrounding tint of green that glimmers with near childish glee. ))

#al writing #not fandom related #writumblr #written for a boy I met for 2 day and didn’t speak a single word in person to #I like him too much please help #i’m happy i kept in that last scrap line because it was his favourite #im down horrendous #never assume you’re un-poetryable bc this guy i barely knew somehow became my muse #not even the best of my writing about him #someone hit me with a microwave

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werewolf-transgenderism · 1 year

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truly do not understand the "I hope these pieces of media get CANCELLED and PULLED and UNMADE" response on here to the WGA strike. do you really think that the writers who have ALREADY WRITTEN these pieces of media would like to see the thing they've poured their time and energy into get cancelled/pulled/unmade in response to asking that their labor be valued at the level it should be?? does that not seem like a retaliatory action from the studios to you?? have you not seen the stuff circulating about hulu and disney pulling media when they merge in direct retaliation to the strike??? have you seen the writers' responses to the shows that hbomax pulled last year about how much that shit sucks and disrespects the work they put into these pieces of media?? like it's different for things that haven't been written yet obviously but the number of people I've seen on here saying that it's good, actually, for things that are already written to get cancelled and pulled in response to the strike is honestly baffling

#some of you have never been on strike in a field where you're asking for adequate compensation for something you've produced and it shows #when my union walked out and when we strike in the fall we're not seeing retaliatory cancellations of courses as a positive that's for sure #we've already written the materials and created the course why would it be good for that labor to go further un/underappreciated

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